A letter from a local party
chairman in a distant mining town brought an invitation of the kind for
which he had been waiting and hoping. He was asked to participate in a
joint debate at the campaign opening in the town in question, and he was
so glad of the chance that he instantly wired his acceptance.
That evening, at the Inter-Mountain _cafe_ dinner hour, he found his
father dining alone and joined him. In a burst of confidence he told of
the invitation.
"That's good; that's the real thing this time, isn't it?" was the
senator's even-toned comment. "Gives you a right nice little chance to
shine the way you can shine best." Then: "That was one of the things
McVickar wanted you for, wasn't it?--speech-making and the like?"
"Why, yes; he intimated that there might be some public speaking,"
admitted the younger man.
"Well, what-all are you going to tell these Ophir fellows when you get
over there, son?" asked the veteran quizzically. "Going to offer 'em all
free passes anywhere they want to go if they'll promise to vote for the
railroad candidates?"
"Not this year," was the laughing reply. "As I told you a while back,
we've stopped all that."
"You have, eh? I reckon that will be mighty sorry news for a good many
people in the old Sage-brush State--mighty sorry news. You really reckon
you _have_ stopped it, do you, son?"
"I not only believe it; I am in a position to assert it definitely.
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